


Imposter Syndrome

by petrodobreva



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, Feelings, Fingering, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, More angst than expected, Oral Sex, Post-Finale, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrodobreva/pseuds/petrodobreva
Summary: She has stayed here so many times over the years; the Roses stopped pretending that Stevie might stay in a hotel when passing through LA or New York years ago. She’s had a key to this place since Alexis bought it. She leaves two sets of sleep clothes here. And a mug.
Relationships: Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 28
Kudos: 83
Collections: Elevate! A Schitt's Creek Femslash Exchange, Up for Anything – a Schitt's Creek WLW porn collection





	Imposter Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singsongsung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/gifts).



> The prompt from singsongsung: Anything Stevie/Alexis. This thing just poured out of me one night, and I've been fiddling with it ever since. I hope you enjoy <3

The sound of the keys jangling in the lock and the friction of the door opening is familiar. It’s familiar in the distant kind of way, as always after a long trip, after a long time between visits. She travels so much now that every place she knows—home, this apartment, the cottage, the LA loft—requires readjustment whenever she returns.

“Stevie?” Alexis calls from somewhere inside.

“Yep!” Stevie pulls her trusty companion, her study Samsonite suitcase, inside behind her. She has packing down to a science at this point and can fit everything into one (albeit large) carry-on.

Her eyes rake over the entryway, scanning for changes. Everything seems to be the same as when she last visited eight months ago, though the lucky bamboo on the mail table is taller.

She has stayed here so many times over the years; the Roses stopped pretending that Stevie might stay in a hotel when passing through LA or New York years ago. She’s had a key to this place since Alexis bought it. She leaves two sets of sleep clothes here. And a mug.

“You’re just in time.” Alexis emerges from her bedroom. She’s clearly ready for a night in, already wearing her version of pyjamas—silk, teal, oversize top slung over matching shorts. It makes her tan pop. She smiles. “I just got out of the shower.”

Her wet hair is pulled up in a bun, her face bare.

“Mmm. I can see that.”

Alexis’ smile widens and she moves in for a hug. It’s warm and familiar, and somewhat bony. Alexis sometimes doesn’t know her own strength, so Stevie’s breath catches in her throat. It’s hard to remember what Alexis smells like when they’re not around each other, but Stevie knows her smell—like she knows the smell of her grandmother’s house or the airport in Detroit. Difficult to conjure, but instantly recognizable.

“Come on,” Alexis says. “Let’s get you settled.”

  
  


“Settled” means that while Stevie showers, Alexis throws all of her clothes in the machine (because otherwise, Stevie will procrastinate) and orders Thai food.

The spray is heavy and hot and Stevie lets herself relax under it, her head bowed so it hits her at the base of her neck as she breathes deeply for the first time in over twelve hours. Her arms feel heavy and her eyes don’t want to open all the way. But here, she doesn’t have to push through it, doesn’t have to use what Alexis calls her “girl boss posturing.” She can be tired. She can put on sweatpants and flannel. She can let her hair air dry. She can sleep without setting an alarm.

She has a meeting in a couple of days. But not today, and not tomorrow.

She slips on her pyjamas and pads barefooted into the living room with clean, warm skin that smells like Alexis’ soap, in fresh clothes that smell like Alexis’ detergent. She sits on the couch by the window. They’re in an old building, across the block from a slightly older building and the main view is nondescript, just of a brick wall and windows.

Still, for Stevie, this apartment _is_ New York. A tiny box inside a building full of tiny boxes. A diorama. Outside, she can hear sirens, cars, the occasional yelling. But nobody out there can hear her. She can feel the rest of the world around her, but she’s just one, small person, in a tiny apartment-shaped box. In a building surrounded by other buildings, all full of tiny boxes, each one with different people inside, living lives that have nothing to do with hers. 

  
  


There’s a _Xena: Warrior Princess_ marathon on in the background, and Thai leftovers are strewn across the wide coffee table. Stevie would have finished her Pad Ma Klur, but Alexis got Stevie her own order of Crab Rangoon because this place uses real crab meat so splitting six measly pieces between them would not be enough. They sit facing each other on the couch, Stevie cross-legged, Alexis with her feet tucked under her.

“I didn’t want to bring it up before,” says Alexis, “because I don’t want you to think you don’t look good. You always look good. But you look tired.”

Stevie exhales deeply. Her shoulders ache.

“I’ve been on the road for almost a month now without a break.”

Alexis takes a sip of her water. “That sounds really tiring.”

“Yeah, well. I’m giving myself four whole days here to regroup.”

Alexis hums, and leans over to squeeze her shoulder. Stevie leans into it and Alexis starts kneading the muscle there. “Wow, you are tense, girl.”

“All the time,” Stevie agrees.

Alexis pulls up her other hand and kneads at both her shoulders for a while.

“So, tell me. What’s new at home?”

“I don’t know if I have any news you don’t already have.” Stevie has barely been home since Alexis was last there for the opening of the new store four months ago. Stevie was in Quebec at the time.

“How is the baby?”

“Big,” says Stevie. “Walking. Running.”

“And Twy?”

“Glowing more than ever.”

Alexis smiles. “Of course she is.”

“How is your mom?”

Alexis lowers her hands from Stevie’s shoulder to pick up her water again. “She’s good. Really good. Recovering. They’re in Carmel having a totally scenic experience.”

Stevie pictures Mrs. Rose in the breakfast nook of a beach house somewhere, drinking her morning coffee and reading _Vanity Fair_ , French doors open wide to let in the salty air.

“Of course they are,” she says. “How is work?”

She hates to bring up the topic at Alexis’ place, pastel oasis that it is, but both of them work all the time—have cohorts of employees, are constantly networking, continually thinking about branding and expansion. Alexis left Rosebud Motel Group in everything but name (and shares) a couple of years ago when the brand ballooned and Alexis got promoted at the firm. She’s been promoted twice more since then.

Alexis sighs. “Things are going well. We’re opening up a whole new branch that’s influencer-specific. I’m worried about it though. I keep telling everyone that we need to start modestly, but they’re investing heaps of cash and team time into it.”

Stevie exhales and leans back into the couch.

“They’re so worried about being left behind, they don’t realize that they might be setting themselves up for failure,” Alexis continues. “The market is so saturated with mid-level influencers right now, the bubble is going to burst soon, and then we’ll just have wasted all that time and energy into this one thing.”

“What do you think they should do?”

“Well, I mean, it’s a good idea. We can’t neglect this side of the business. We’re a PR firm for celebrities and artists. Celebrity has taken a whole new shape; we can’t ignore that. We have to make moves.”

“But…?”

“ _But_ the clients we already have are already starting to feel neglected, and that can’t happen. Their brands need to be nurtured first—they’re too busy, they can’t maintain influencer status on their own. That’s _our_ job, to make sure our big celebrity clients stay relevant.”

She sighs and leans back too, taking another sip of water. Her forehead is creased. She’s not as shiny and youthful as she once was. But she’s still gorgeous, still strong, still full of energy—though she may have mellowed out a bit, gotten stricter as her responsibilities grew. 

“I think launching a branch for mid-level influencer representation is a good idea,” she continues, “but I think we need to start small. Small enough that we can take time to build solid relationships and loyalty with these new clients. I think the higher-ups think that all these influencers are just going to stay mid-level forever and are trying to capitalize on a trend. But that’s not true, things change so fast, there’s so much mobility. For all we know, they might explode in popularity tomorrow, and we need to be ready for that. We can’t tank our big celebrity sector.”

Alexis pauses to put her water down and asks, “Do you want some tea? I have a nice chamomile that might help you relax.”

Stevie thinks about requesting some wine, but she knows Alexis will give her stink-eye. She’s even more of a health nut than she used to be. They’ll have wine or beer with dinner tomorrow.

“Sure.”

“Honey?”

“Yep.”

Alexis turns on the kettle and returns to the couch.

“I don’t know. I just… I thought things would be different by now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I’ve been with this company for six years. I have an assistant who has her own assistants. I lead huge meetings on a daily basis. I am good friends with Eva Price. I have my own thriving personal brand. I have eight thousand followers on Instagram. You would think that I would know what I was talking about.”

“They’re not listening to you?” Stevie has a hard time picturing that. Heads turn when Alexis walks into a room, people fall silent.

“No, it’s… it’s been fine. I guess I’m just wondering when _I’m_ going to stop second-guessing myself.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, like, obviously it’s not a problem every day. But, I don’t know, in this situation, I keep thinking, _Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s a solid investment_.”

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that you cannot predict the future. Just because something is a great idea doesn’t mean it will work out. And just because something goes well initially, doesn’t mean that it’s guaranteed to stay that way.”

“Yeah.”

“I know what you mean, though, about second-guessing yourself.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously.” Stevie leans forward again and lays her arm down on the couch, fingers grazing Alexis’ shoulder. “I still get so nervous before meetings and presentations, even the conference calls from hotel rooms.”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I had to talk you down from cancelling one last time you were here.”

Stevie chuckles, remembering Alexis trying to use a pump-up speech that backfired big time, almost sending Stevie into a full-blown panic attack. But then, she retracted and started rubbing Stevie’s back instead, reminding her that the meeting was no big deal and that nobody would remember her anyway. It helped, despite the fact that Stevie didn’t fully believe her.

“Exactly, and do you think that I’m good at my job?”

Alexis leans in closer, “Stevie, of course I do. You’re so good, you bought a house last year.”

Stevie scoffs. “A house in the Schitt’s Creek real estate market, but sure.”

“The Schitt’s Creek real estate market is booming,” Alexis asserts, teasingly.

“You’re right. The town population has grown by a whole ten people.”

“That’s what we professionals call _exponential growth_.”

“Okay, okay. My point is, I think second-guessing yourself is just part of it. It gets better with time, but it never goes away.”

“Yeah.”

“And I think it’s good. It keeps us accountable.”

“Yeah, like, if I didn’t second-guess myself sometimes, I might have invested in projects that were bad ideas. Like, really bad.”

“Right.”

Alexis gets a glint in her eye. Stevie braces herself for what she predicts is a familiar turn in the conversation. “Or dated people that were also bad ideas.”

Stevie swallows. “Right.”

A shiver, warm and recognizable, moves up Stevie’s spine and across her back. Alexis moves closer. Her eyes graze over Stevie’s face, across her chest before she puts her hands on Stevie’s knees and pulls herself up into a crouching position.

“What is happening?”

Alexis smiles. “Cuddling.”

Stevie chuckles and reacts by pulling her legs out from under her to bracket Alexis, whose head ends up on her chest, her arms wrapped around Stevie’s waist.

Stevie holds her breath. It’s been a while since they’ve been in this position—eight months, as a matter-of-fact. It appears that Alexis is charging forward, taking the lead. Alexis’ fingers start tracing slow, hesitant circles on her side.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Stevie whispers, wanting to make sure.

“Nothing serious,” Alexis says, her hot breath skimming across Stevie’s breast. She feels Alexis’ fingers grip slightly beneath her. “Or consistent.”

Stevie lets out a thin breath.

“Are you?” asks Alexis.

“No, not for a while,” Stevie says.

Alexis leans up and Stevie is greeted with a smirk and sparkling eyes.

“Oh, so this come-on is definitely welcome, then.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. She watches as Alexis’ chest rises and falls with her breath. The space between their faces is written with memories, knowledge, and distance.

The kettle dings in the kitchen, and it pulls Stevie’s attention for a moment. When she looks back, Alexis’ eyes are even closer—large and clear and blue.

Stevie closes the space between them. She pulls Alexis in by the back of her neck for a kiss. The kiss is loose and soft and Stevie can feel a different kind of tension move through her, a warm rush between her thighs. Their mouths open, and Stevie pushes her tongue forward in offering. Alexis responds in kind. The taste of Alexis is an old memory—at once familiar and strange. As to everything else in this apartment, Stevie has to readjust, has to remind herself that she’s been here before, that she likes it, that she wants it.

It doesn’t take long before any hesitation is overcome by a need to pull Alexis closer, by the permission to touch. Alexis’ hands move up her torso and skim past her breasts to settle on her throat, lighting the strip of skin on fire. Stevie gasps into Alexis’ mouth and grabs at her shoulders to steady herself. She’s getting too worked up too fast, losing her cool.

It encourages Alexis and she moves her mouth to kiss Stevie’s cheek, her jaw, then down to skate across her throat. Stevie can feel it everywhere; her fingers are already tingling, heat pooling below.

Alexis is licking now, sucking at a tender spot below her ear, and Stevie is caught between an ache and a tickle. So, she just shudders, letting the resistance seep into her toes.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you told me you were coming,” Alexis says against her ear.

She can’t respond, all she can do is release the whine caught in her throat. Involuntarily, she pushes her body up and into the hard, hot line of Alexis’. Alexis responds by ducking her head and nuzzling her nose into one of Stevie’s breasts, grabbing her hip.

Alexis is panting when she looks up and says, “Change of scenery?”

“Yeah,” Stevie breaths. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

She watches Alexis walk away toward the bedroom, this time letting herself appreciate the long, muscular lines that disappear into the soft silk of Alexis’ shorts. Stevie plans on putting her hands right there in that spot, letting her fingers move past the hemline to caress the soft skin underneath. Her throat is dry from want, and that’s a familiar feeling too.

She follows after Alexis and finds her on the bed in the guest bedroom—Stevie’s bed. She’s leaning back, resting on her hands, smiling up at Stevie, biting her lip. Stevie walks over and kisses Alexis again, guiding her backward, straddling her waist. While their lips connect, harder now, Alexis reaches up to pull out her hair tie. Alexis’ hair is still mostly damp and Stevie takes the moment to grab onto it, angling Alexis’ head beneath her, and feels the vibration of Alexis’ answering moan.

It’s always like this. Slow and warm and aching, their bodies pushing into one another, trying to get back to something. Stevie’s whole world shrinks to the places their bodies are touching—their lips, Stevie’s hand in Alexis’ hair, her arm around Alexis’ shoulders, their breasts and stomachs, Alexis’ hands pulling at Stevie’s lower back, the place between her legs where she is grinding into Alexis.

When Stevie landed in Newark, she wasn’t sure this would happen; when she walked into the apartment and saw Alexis she hoped it would, but she didn’t know. Now, they’re slotted together in the gray light and she’s not sure why she doubted it. They have ended up like this, tangled and wanting, so many times. In this very room, at the cottage, in hotels and conference centers. Stevie always wants her, and Alexis always wants her back. After seven years, Stevie isn’t sure why she’s still surprised.

She pushes Alexis onto her back. She thinks about pulling Alexis’ top off now, but instead opts for teasing her nipples through the fabric. The fabric is smooth and Alexis’ breasts are soft beneath her massaging hands. Small, high-pitched, wanting sounds are coming from her throat and it spurs Stevie on, making her impatient.

She pulls at the hemline and Alexis sits up briefly to help the shirt over her head.

_There she is_.

Alexis is laid out in front of her. Her tan lines are different this time—this time, there are lines across her shoulders instead of just one thick line across her chest. Small pale triangles frame her wide, dark nipples. Her eyes are hooded and wanting and Stevie reaches out and cups a breast. It fits in the center of her palm, just like it always does.

She pushes down and Alexis moans in earnest. Stevie remembers that sound, and can feel it in the middle of her spine. She bends low to kiss and nose her way down Alexis’ torso. Alexis grabs her other hand and kisses the tips of her fingers.

“Stevie,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” She looks up.

Alexis just shakes her head and smiles. “I just wanted to say your name. Keep going.”

It makes her throat ache. She moves farther and gets her hand where she wants it. She teases her fingers under the hemline of Alexis’ shorts and slides in, stroking the soft skin between thigh and hip bone. Alexis’ breath catches. And then she moans.

Stevie uses both of her fists to yank Alexis’ shorts down, revealing bare skin and more pristine tan lines. Stevie’s mouth waters, but she doesn’t swallow. She looks up at Alexis, whose eyes are alight again.

Alexis sits up and it’s almost disappointing until Alexis reaches over to tug at Stevie’s t-shirt. She obeys and then Alexis is on her, mouthing at her full breasts, soothing at the marks left from her bra, using her hand to circle around a nipple.

They lie back together this time, aligning their chests so friction can build between their nipples, so Stevie can feel her skin on Alexis’. Alexis kisses her deeply, exploring her mouth with her tongue, taking the time to suck and bite each lip.

Alexis tugs at Stevie’s waistband and she takes a moment to take care of her pants as well. There’s nothing between them now and Alexis doesn’t waste any time. Her fingers trail down past Stevie’s belly button, past the curls of hair there, and then, _Oh_ , Alexis’ finger glides across her clit.

Stevie’s head falls back as every nerve in her body lights up. All her senses narrow to the spot where Alexis touches her. She moans and clutches at Alexis’ shoulders but Alexis doesn’t change her pace, keeping her fingers feather-light, gliding through the wetness there. The fire in her chest heats up and she’s caught between her desire for Alexis to _just keep going_ and to stop her, to take control herself.

She picks the latter and presses Alexis back into the pillows. They’re just legs and arms and skin and heat. Stevie licks into Alexis’ mouth and holds her tightly. Alexis wraps a leg around Stevie’s waist in agreement, clutching at her shoulders. Stevie ducks down to work more diligently on Alexis’ nipple, wanting to make her writhe and need and beg.

Alexis never begs; she just lies back and takes it, moans coming from deep in her throat. So, Stevie doesn’t stop. Instead, she moves one hand down, checking to see if Alexis is ready. The wet, slippery heat is her answer.

Stevie opens her mouth wide and lets her breath tickle Alexis’ nipple, then slides her tongue across it. If she’s being honest with herself, Alexis’ small, round breasts are a bit of an obsession. She enjoys reminding herself that each one fits almost perfectly into her mouth, into her palm. She bites down lightly and pulls the nipple by her teeth.

She could stay like this all night, drinking her in. But there is another task waiting for her and, not for the first time, she wishes her mouth could be in two places at once.

She drags it out, moving her mouth and her tongue across the lines below the swells of Alexis’ breasts. She hears a gasp and Alexis’ hand flies into Stevie’s hair. She kisses wetly down Alexis’ torso, nuzzling her nose into her soft stomach. When she gets to the line of soft skin between Alexis’ hip bone and thigh, she stops for a moment to kiss, and lick, and suck, breathing in her sweet scent.

She leaves a hand on Alexis’ breast and wraps her other arm around Alexis’ thigh, holding her in place while she concentrates on the thin skin there. Alexis is mostly hard muscle and soft skin—always buffed and waxed and impenetrable. But here, in this spot, she’s tender and warm and soft. So, Stevie sucks and Alexis whines and Stevie bites and licks.

When she thinks she may have at least brought some redness to the surface, she backs away, suddenly concerned. “Do you like this?” she breathes.

When she looks, Alexis is nodding. “Mhmm.”

Stevie returns to her ministrations. Hot, wet ache is pooling in the back of her throat. She can feel her own clit throbbing. She should put Alexis out of her misery. She should put herself out of her misery, but she just wants to inhale Alexis in this spot, pull her scent, her taste, the sound of her breath into her veins. She clutches harder, sucks harder, tries to swallow the feeling down.

Tomorrow, there will be a bruise in that spot. And if Alexis lets her, Stevie will soothe it again with her tongue.

Stevie has a plan. She has a plan to make Alexis whimper and moan and chant her name so that she can replay it in her head in the coming months. To add it to her mental tally reminding her that this is real, this happened. Alexis might not _be_ anything to her. But they have this.

Suddenly, the heat of anticipation is no longer enough. She needs to taste Alexis, to watch her come undone. She gives in. She’s not sure if she’s done enough to earn this, but she can’t wait anymore. She settles herself in between Alexis’ legs. She’s been here before, but she’s suddenly nervous. When she looks up to search for Alexis’ eyes, they are already on her. Alexis smirks knowingly and it unloosens something in Stevie’s chest. She huffs out a breath of laughter, and leans forward to plant a soft kiss into the dip above her pelvis. Alexis hums in approval and says, “Stevie.”

And that’s all she needs. She kisses her way down Alexis’ skin and grazes her lips across Alexis’ labia, nuzzling into her slit, into the dripping, pink heat. “Stevie!” Alexis whines.

It prompts her into deliberation, into targeting. She softens her lips and mouths hungrily into the soft flesh. Alexis lets out a long moan and arches her back. It makes Stevie smile. _No you don’t_ , she thinks, and pushes her down into the mattress by the hips.

Stevie loses track of time between Alexis’ legs, licking and sucking and swallowing her down. At one point, Alexis gets her hand in Stevie’s hair, right in that perfect spot behind her ear, and tugs. Stevie feels it in her face, behind her eyes and it just makes her more desperate.

Alexis, who has been pushing into her, suddenly goes slack in her arms, but her hand in Stevie’s hair tightens. It means Alexis is close, that her mind isn’t aching anymore, that she knows it’s coming. So, Stevie grips her legs harder and steels herself to keep her tongue, which is focused on Alexis’ clit, moving and steady.

She can feel Alexis start to pulse underneath her tongue.

“Oh. Oh,” Alexis whines. And then she hears a low, soft, aching sound come from Alexis. And then she’s coming quietly—the only indication is her strangled cry and shaking thighs.

Stevie keeps her tongue flat on Alexis’ clit while her muscles liquefy underneath her fingers. When she pulls away, she watches Alexis’ fingers relax. Her eyes are closed, her head arched back into the pillows.

When she starts coming to, it’s with a strangled sound, almost like a sob. Her breath is uneven and her chest heaves.

“Oh, my god,” Alexis stutters. “Oh, my god, I can’t feel my hands.”

Stevie chuckles. That’s happened to her a couple of times. Like when she and Alexis ended up tangled together in Stevie’s room during a family beach vacation—Alexis had pushed down on her lower stomach while moving her fingers languorously inside of her and she almost blacked out.

“Come here,” Alexis breathes. Stevie doesn’t follow right away; instead, she pauses a moment to wipe her lips. Alexis follows the movement and her eyes darken, the ghost of a smile teasing at her lips.

Stevie leans forward. Alexis’ smile begins to emerge, but she bites her lips to stop it.

Alexis raises her hand and says, “You still have some…” and then uses her thumb to chase away a slick spot from Stevie’s chin. She giggles and nuzzles her nose into Stevie’s, and it’s such an intimate, familiar gesture Stevie is almost taken aback.

She still doesn’t know what Alexis thinks of all of this… this thing they have between them. They are friends. Real friends. They don’t make sense as such, but shared loved ones and experiences will do that. But this other part of what they have—Stevie sometimes feels like she’s not allowed to want it, while she aches for it desperately all the same. She doesn’t know what Alexis is thinking. Alexis approaches this part of their relationship almost like she approaches everything else in her life, like she knows she can have whatever she wants whenever she wants it. And every once in a while, she wants Stevie.

Alexis kisses like that too. Confident and slow, like they have all the time in the world. Stevie supposes they do. The night is young, and it’s only the first night of her stay.

The first few times they slept together, Stevie fixated on the differences between their bodies. Alexis’ long, muscular legs and narrow hips compared to the curves of Stevie’s hips, ass, and thighs. Alexis’ tan compared to Stevie’s fairness. Alexis’ perfect, barely-there breasts compared with Stevie’s full, swelling bust. She remembers that now, remembers how much she’s grown to appreciate their contrasts. As Alexis moves down to take her turn on Stevie, instead of comparing herself, Stevie marvels at the juxtaposition of Alexis’ darker hand on her pale stomach, then gripping her thigh.

Alexis doesn’t waste any time. She doesn’t need to. Stevie is past ready, past turned on. She just wants Alexis’ hands on her and she wants it now.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What do you want?” Alexis murmurs, her finger already pushing inside of her, collecting the wetness, spreading it to the rest of her aching heat.

Stevie chuckles. “You tend to have better ideas than I do.”

Alexis laughs. “You’re usually right,” she says. “Though you’re obviously better at execution.” Then, she sinks her finger deeper inside as Stevie notes with satisfaction that Alexis’ nails are blunted.

_She planned for this_ , Stevie thinks. Then, she stops thinking.

Alexis knows what Stevie wants, what she likes. Alexis knows that Stevie likes to watch Alexis first, get fucked second. She knows that Stevie likes Alexis’ fingers sliding in and out of her slowly, but relentlessly, with delicate attention to her clit. She knows that Stevie likes getting her nipples sucked until they’re almost too sensitive. She knows that when Stevie tenses it means there is too much pressure on her g-spot and to ease up.

It makes her almost angry, the way Alexis knows her body better than almost anyone else. Even if they’re together, at most, only twice a year.

She’s putting the knowledge to use now. Her fingers are moving slowly and it’s just enough that a pressure starts to build, one that she feels in the nape of her neck and her toes.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Alexis murmurs. Because she knows Stevie likes it.

She watches Alexis who is kneeling in front of her, bare skin on display. She watches the muscles in her arm work, and the concentrated tension in her throat. She gazes at Alexis’ nipples, now taut and pink and bruised because of Stevie’s mouth.

It builds and builds and Stevie wants to come already. She says as much. But Alexis knows better; she knows Stevie’s impatience. She just maintains her relentless rhythm, the tension in her stomach punctuated by the smooth, irregular strokes to her clit. It’s heat and fire and pressure and it’s too damn slow.

Something inside of her snaps. A tension in her hip dissipates, resistance wanes and she allows herself to let go. She doesn’t know how, she never knows how, but she knows that it means she’s going to come soon.

And then, she does. The heat and the tension spread across her body, chased away by a spark that travels from the center of her core, through her limbs and out through her toes, fingers, lips, and nose. She knows that she moans, loudly, but she’s not really aware of it. Waves of heat are crashing through her body. Alexis’ fingers have stilled. She wants to see if Alexis is watching, but she can’t—she’s been swept away.

When she does return to herself, she doesn’t open her eyes right away for fear of breaking the spell. She feels the dip of the mattress as Alexis lies down again beside her. She feels Alexis’ hand warm on her upper arm, drawing small circles.

She lets out a sigh and then opens her eyes. Alexis is beaming at her and when their eyes lock, she giggles. “You are so hot, babe,” she says.

Stevie rolls her eyes. Alexis calls her “babe” all the time—in bed, out at brunch, in the office. She tells Stevie she’s hot all the time, too—in bed, on reluctant shopping trips, in the office. It doesn’t have anything to do with the setting. Stevie chalks it up to Alexis’ generally flirtatious and enthusiastic nature. It doesn’t always mean sex.

Stevie doesn’t even let herself think about the sex unless she knows it’s about to happen, or she’s alone. The rest of the time Alexis is just her friend, and barely that. More like her compatriot. Somebody in the trenches with her. Somebody else who knows how to deal with David and Mr. and Mrs. Rose. Some days, Alexis is barely that. Some days, Alexis is just the highly successful, put-together branding expert bugging her about how to switch from PowerPoint to Keynote.

“Do you remember the first time we hooked up?” Alexis asks, breath wafting onto Stevie’s cheek.

The first time was at the wedding. They still call it “the wedding” because so far no one else but Twyla has gotten married, and she eloped. They were both drunk and without dates. So they danced together jokingly, and then they danced together earnestly, and then Alexis got a little handsy and Stevie got a little horny and they ended up making out in one of the rooms in the back of Town Hall, and then tangled together at Stevie’s apartment. Alexis tasted like red wine and sugar. It was loose and sloppy, and more than a little sweaty.

Alexis left for New York a week later and they didn’t talk about it until December.

“Of course I remember,” Stevie says. “Remember the first Christmas at the cottage?”

Alexis chuckles. “Yeah. Remember how David and Patrick put us in the guest bedroom together like it was a high school sleepover?”

“I know about your high school experiences. A little girl-on-girl is not exactly out of character for you.”

Alexis just wiggles her eyebrows, looking pleased. “Remember when David found us out when we were all at the beach house?”

Stevie rolls her eyes, remembering David’s face contorted in horror when he realized that what he walked in on was not gal-pal cuddling, but in fact, a post-coital haze. “At least you weren’t the one who was topless.”

“Ew!” Alexis swats Stevie with a pillow then.

“You brought it up,” Stevie shrugs.

Her thighs are sore, and sweat is drying on her forehead.

“Okay,” Alexis says. “Do you want the bathroom first?”

“You can go,” Stevie says.

Alexis doesn’t ask, _You sure?_ She just says, “All right,” and plants a peck on Stevie’s cheek—sending a small shock through her system.

After Stevie finishes up in the bathroom she sees that Alexis remade the bed, putting her pyjamas back on before tucking herself under the covers. So Stevie does the same.

When she pulls her t-shirt over her head, she hears Alexis say, “Oh, trying to make it more difficult for me in the morning?”

“Oh, will this be happening again in the morning?”

Alexis smirks and narrows her eyes. “I’d say most signs are pointing to ‘yes.’”

Stevie warms at the thought and slides into the sheets. She doesn’t ask if it will happen again after these four days are over. She assumes every time is the last time. Next time they see each other, one or both of them could be dating someone. There was a period, a few years ago, when Alexis met a guy named Chris. They stayed together for a while, almost two years. But then he asked her to marry him and she said no. Stevie didn’t realize it at the time, but she had been bracing herself for the news, and when it didn’t come she didn’t know what to do with the relief she felt, didn’t know where to put it.

“Do you think you’ll get married?” Stevie asks, and she doesn’t know where the question comes from.

Stevie feels the words hanging in the air. As a car drives past, it makes light move across the wall.

“I used to think so,” Alexis says. “But I’m not sure anymore.”

“Do you want kids?”

Alexis shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

Stevie chuckles. “Wow, the Rose line is really going to die out, isn’t it?”

That makes Alexis laugh quietly. She doesn’t ask the same questions of Stevie. Stevie has already made her aversion to marriage and children clear.

“There are other kinds of legacy,” Alexis says. Stevie feels Alexis tug at her hand. “There are other things that make what we do important.”

They twine their fingers together. Alexis rubs her thumb on Stevie’s knuckles. Stevie isn’t sure what comes next, but whatever it is, she thinks she is supposed to be here with Alexis now. And she thinks that she’s pretty sure there will be a next time.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for _Elevate!_ , A Schitt’s Creek femslash prompt exchange. Stories were anonymous until Author Reveal Day on September 27th. Check out the rest of the Elevate stories [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Elevate_Femslash).
> 
> This story was written for [singsongsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/pseuds/singsongsung), who is a femslash genius as demonstrated by her unbelievable Alexis/Twyla ballet AU. You can read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451365).
> 
> So much love and gratitude to my beta, [yourbuttervoicedbeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau) for sharing your wisdom about smut and feelings.


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